


Blood Red Horizons

by orlesiantitans



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape Recovery, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlesiantitans/pseuds/orlesiantitans
Summary: The sky spins above Rosalie, a whole galaxy of stars shining in the sky, and she knows that she’s found the place she’s going to die. She’s still hurting - she’s fairly sure she’s bleeding, and between her legs she aches so badly she’s glad she’s going to die. Her only hope - prayer - is that they find her body and figure out what happened to her. Would Royce face punishment for what he’s done? Probably not. He’s rich. His lawyers would find some way to excuse him for it, and her death would go unavenged. It angers her, briefly, and she wishes she could tear every man limb from limb until they knew a fraction of the pain she’s in. But dead women don’t have such desires, so it’s just as well it will be over soon.Rosalie Hale survives as a human. This is what comes next.
Relationships: Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	Blood Red Horizons

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written Twilight fanfiction in ten years. Clearly the Renaissance hit hard. 
> 
> Few things. This story is set after Rosalie is attacked by Royce. It includes victim blaming, rape recovery, and a lot of references to what she suffered. If these are triggering to you, stop now. I have subverted canon in a major way - Emmett was turned by Carlisle first. This is mostly just giving Rose the recovery she needed. Enjoy!

The sky spins above Rosalie, a whole galaxy of stars shining in the sky, and she knows that she’s found the place she’s going to die. She’s still hurting - she’s fairly sure she’s bleeding, and between her legs she  _ aches _ so badly she’s glad she’s going to die. Her only hope - prayer - is that they find her body and figure out what happened to her. Would Royce face punishment for what he’s done? Probably not. He’s rich. His lawyers would find some way to excuse him for it, and her death would go unavenged. It angers her, briefly, and she wishes she could tear every man limb from limb until they knew a fraction of the pain she’s in. But dead women don’t have such desires, so it’s just as well it will be over soon.

Or so she hopes. She hears footsteps, and then a sharp intake of breath. Briefly she considers turning her head to look at whoever it is that’s found her, but she keeps her eyes skyward. Better to let it take her. 

“Miss?” comes a man’s voice, and a grubby face comes into view. He’s obviously poor, face streaked with oil, and his eyes frantically scan over her body as he takes in what happened to her. Perhaps he’s here to finish the job, to have his way with her as well. She wants to flinch away from his gaze, but she doesn’t have the energy or will to do so. What can he take from her that hasn’t already been taken?

She croaks, “Please…”

“Please what, miss?”

“Just. Let me die.”

The man’s face crumples briefly in agony, and then he shakes his head decisively. “No can do, miss. The Lord’d have me for that.”

She wants to cry. Instead, she’s picked up in this man’s arms. She feels something run down her leg, and she hears the man’s shocked intake of breath. Honestly, she’s not certain if it’s her blood or her attackers’ spendings, but she doesn’t care. Her dress is already covered in blood and her hair is askew. It’s obvious what happened to her.

She feels something heavy get draped over her lap, and she notices the man seems to have removed his jacket for her. It has her squinting in confusion - aren’t the poor meant to be self-serving fools? 

“Where d’you live, miss?” he asks, hesitantly, and she tells him. 

He must have seen her ring, because he keeps up the conversation, obviously desperate for her to remain awake. “Your husband waiting for you at home?”

“My parents,” she replies. “I’m - I’m meant to be getting married next week.”

The man nods, “Must be a lucky fella, huh? What’s his name?”

A sob leaves Rosalie, and the man flinches. “It’s alright, miss, I’m sure - I’m sure he loves you, and…”

“ _ He _ did this to me,” she whispers, and the darkness that crosses the man’s face almost makes her believe there are good men still in the world.

“That son of a…” he shakes his head. “This your house, miss?”

It is. He knocks on the door, and her mother answers. It’s obvious she thinks the man carrying her is guilty at first, something Rosalie groggily denies. She won’t have an innocent man hurt because of Royce’s crimes.

The darkness takes her, then, and it’s bleak. But it’s better than pain and hurt and betrayal, and so she takes it. When she wakes, it is still dark outside, and her parents are in her room. She’s still throbbing between her legs, but part of her just wants to climb in the bath and scrub herself until she’s red raw, to erase them from her. 

Instead, her mother gives her a weak smile, “You’re awake!” she says. “The doctor has managed to fix things. We’ll make sure you’re just as radiant as always when you walk down the aisle.”

Shaking her head, Rosalie looks steadfastly away. “I’m not marrying him.”

“Royce is a good man, I’m certain he won’t hold this transgr-”

“Royce did this to me!”

The silence that follows is deafening, but her father’s voice cuts through it. “And what did you expect? Walking around like that after dark?” he steps closer. “You will marry Royce tomorrow.”

“I shan’t,” Rosalie replies, furious. Her mother looks between them in panic.

“Perhaps we shall see what Royce has to say in the morning?”

What Royce has to say is… not an awful lot. Rosalie, despite trembling and being sick at the sight of him, tells him she won’t marry him.

He snorts, “As if I would want damaged goods for a wife, anyways.”

She holds it together when he says that, but later - with him out of the door - Rosalie curls into a ball and  _ sobs _ . Marriage is off the cards for her, now, because Royce is quite right. 

_ Nobody _ would want damaged goods.

* * *

For months, Rosalie doesn’t leave her bed. 

Her first blood after Royce leaves gives her a sort of relief she’s never known. In a way, her mother seems upset she isn’t pregnant. Perhaps she thought Royce would wed Rosalie, if she was pregnant - just in case he’d been the one to get a child on her.

Rosalie knows that’s not the case. There are five other men who could have gotten her pregnant, and why would Royce take responsibility for his friends? Even if it had been his, what honour does a rapist have?

Her father maintains it’s her fault, a position her mother seems to agree with. Their perfect plan for their perfect daughter, ruined by her walking around late at night. What self-respecting young woman does that, anyway? She should have stayed at Vera’s. 

In retrospect, she wishes she had stayed at Vera’s. In many ways, her life would have been easier. She’d have worn her beautiful dress, and Royce would have kissed her, and then…

And then…

She throws up at the thought of what would have happened after the wedding. Their hands are forcing her thighs apart again, and the tears don’t stop coming.

Eventually, she leaves home. It’s been more than a year since she was attacked. She’s certain Royce has a beautiful new wife, a new life. She wants to have her own life. And so she goes to the local hospital and asks to work there. She wants to learn how to be a nurse, she primly tells one of the women there, and with her educated voice and confidence she thought she’d lost, she manages to convince them.

It’s a few years into this employment, when she’s finally starting to grasp a lot of the things she’s learning that she first meets Doctor Carlisle Cullen.

At this point, she has somewhere to live. A woman’s-only hotel provided her accommodation as a working woman, and she doesn’t have to worry too much about seeing men. She’s just gotten to the point where she stops jumping when a man near her makes a sudden movement, and she’s relieved to be at a point where she feels safer. She’s twenty two years old and she feels as though she has some of her life back. 

When she meets him, she’s fairly certain she spends a few moments in shock. The doctor is handsome - ridiculously so. He looks like an angel fallen to earth, and his golden eyes are kind as he regards her. “Nurse Rosalie Hale, right?”

“Yes, I-” she pauses. “Most people call me Rose. I prefer Rose.”

Rosalie had been her parents’ pride and joy, the girl whose fiancé raped her and who spent months sobbing in bed. Rose is the woman who got a job and tried her best. It’s not perfect, but it’s something.

Nodding, Doctor Cullen waves her down the hall. He has a few patients to see, and she’s mostly there to help with the menial tasks. In many ways, it still disgusts her - she was born for luxury - but Rose puts up with it. She needs money to survive, and while it’s barely enough, she gets by with what she makes at the hospital. She feels a little jealous of this man, she thinks, as he tends to patients - he looks prettier than she does, and she’s a  _ woman _ . It’s frustrating. It would be nice to say she’s over her concerns about her looks and such, but she’s not - she is vain, and she thinks she always will be.

She’s beautiful. She can’t help it.

Doctor Cullen is a good doctor. She notices it, in the first few weeks he works at the hospital. He speaks of a wife, at home, and of her nephews that live with him. Honestly, Rose isn’t all that interested - but she thinks she should have paid more attention. When the large man appears behind her, she almost jumps out of her skin.

“Hey.”

His voice has a southern lilt to it, and Rose nods stiffly. “Hello. How can I help you?”

“Wonderin’ if Carlisle’s here,” he says. “I’m Emmett. His nephew.”

This is the nephew. Honestly, if he hadn’t said that, she might have thought them brothers - while this man is most definitely larger than Carlisle, and his hair is darker, he has those honey-gold eyes the doctor has, the same quality to his voice that reminds her of hot chocolate running down her throat. But there’s something… else. Something that makes her cheeks flush and a sense of safety settle over her. It makes no sense for her to feel that about a man she’s just met. But she does.

“Doctor Cullen went on his lunch break an hour ago,” she says, as plainly as she can, her voice trembling only a little. The man gives her a little salute, and his walk is… jaunty. Turning away from him, Rose feels the flush in her cheeks at the memory of his smile. She hasn’t felt like this in longer than she can remember. Perhaps it is the first time she has ever felt such.

* * *

Emmett Cullen continues to visit the hospital, and even starts to do things Rose wouldn’t have let him do, if it wasn’t for his persistence. He walks her home after she’s finished work, and always leaves with a dimpled smile and a ‘ma’am’. He tells her a little bit about how he grew up - with his family in Tennessee, he says. When she asks him why he lives with the doctor and his wife, now, his face darkens and he shrugs. 

“Sometimes you ain’t got a choice. But Carlisle and Esme are good folks. Edward’s a bit of a pain sometimes, but we look out for each other. All works out in the end.”

“Do you miss your family back in Tennessee?”

“Now and then,” he shrugs. “What ‘bout you? Do you miss your folks?”

Rose hesitates a moment, “No. Not really.”

She misses the ease of her old life. The innocence of it all, of the idea of having a handsome husband and five beautiful children and a home to take care of. She misses not having to work. She misses how her hands used to be soft, and now show signs of work. Sometimes, on those darkest of nights, she misses her virginity, because she knows nobody will want her without it.

Even Emmett, once he finds out the truth, won’t want her. The truth breaks her heart, but she humours him anyway, because some small part of her likes the attention.

One night, after he walks her home, he leans in to kiss her. It reminds her, briefly, of the kiss Vera’s husband gave her - the one that made Rosalie realise she wouldn’t ever have a husband who loved her.

Rose considers that perhaps she’ll get lucky. 

_ But then he’ll find out I’m broken, and he won’t want me anymore _ .

He invites her to go to the park with him, for a walk, and that’s when they see him. Royce. It’s getting dark, and he’s walking along, humming to himself. It’s been a while since Rose was able to go out as night starts to fall - with Emmett with her, it’s easier, though not simple. But seeing Royce brings it all back, and she freezes, her heart rate picking up. 

On seeing her reaction, eyes frozen on the man in front of them, Emmett pauses. Her breath comes fast, and it’s worse when Royce spots her and an oily smile spreads across his face.

“Rosalie! You out for some fun again?” 

She’s shaking, and it’s clear Emmett notices too. He has Royce pinned to a tree in a second, so hard she hears something crack. He moves too quickly for her to see, and that’s when she realises that perhaps there’s more to Emmett than she’d initially thought. It’s… inhuman, and he holds the man she was once meant to marry by the throat. Then, he looks at her. “Do you want him dead?”

It should frighten her, that he asks that question so casually. But Rose isn’t easily frightened, and in many ways, it feels as though she can’t live, not truly, while Royce does.

She nods. Royce screams.

* * *

“You’re testin’ my patience, baby,” Emmett mumbles. Doctor Cullen and his wife and the other one are out. A hunting trip, Emmett had told her, and Rose knows that has more meaning to it than he lets on. They’d spoken about it, after Royce had been disposed of. It should have been hard to believe, vampires and such, but the certainty in Emmett’s voice and the things she’d seen him do had her believing him wholeheartedly. 

His… ‘brother’, Edward, disapproves of her knowledge. He says it’s dangerous. Emmett makes it very, very clear that he doesn’t give a fuck. His words, not hers.

They’re on Emmett’s bed, and he’s kissing her. She’d asked him, a few months before, how he manages to control himself around her. He’d gone a little embarrassed and quiet, before mumbling, “You just don’t smell that good, sweetheart. Think you’ve got amenia, or somethin’.”

She’s not even offended. If she has low iron and it means she gets  _ this _ , she doesn’t  _ care _ . His hands are gentle on her waist, and he is feather-light in his touches. Respecting her boundaries, always. Even in his bed. He says she’s testing his patience, but she knows he won’t do anything unless she asks him for it. 

Pulling back, she hears the noise he makes before those golden eyes flicker open, a curl hanging over his eye. “You alright, babe?”

“Do you think I’m ruined?” she asks. The words don’t tremble, and she’s proud.

Emmett’s face crumples, and she loves him all the more for it. “What? Rose. Baby. No. Not ever.”

It breaks a dam inside of her. The feeling inside of her -  _ desire? _ \- is foreign, but not unwelcome. She kisses him again, and climbs on his lap. The growl that leaves Emmett takes her breath away, and she pulls back. “You don’t need to be patient.”

His eyes are wide. “Rosie. Baby. I don’t know if I - I don’t wanna…”

Pushing him down so he’s lying on his back, Rose leans down to kiss him again, feeling evidence of desire hard between her legs. He’s still unsure, she can feel it, and she almost goes to roll onto her back, to let him on top of her. But he stops her. 

“Stay put,” he groans. “Just. If we’re gonna… if we’re gonna… then you should be on top. Gives you the control. And… might stop me from…”

From hurting her. It’s silly, Rose thinks, because she’s certain Emmett couldn’t hurt her if he tried. Or… well, he  _ could _ , but he wouldn’t. Not ever. But she stays where she is as they both struggle out of the clothes, and she feels… warm, down below. It’s a new sensation. 

When she sinks down on his length, her body welcomes it. The last time she was forced to take a man into her body, it had been an invasion. This feels like a homecoming. They are one entity, and she feels whole.

Rocking on top of him, Rose notices the way his head has tilted back, eyes only slightly open. Hooded, just two slivers of gold showing through them. It feels… powerful. She has reduced this huge, strong man to be looking at her as though she’s some sort of goddess, and it feels  _ good _ . She strokes a hand over his chest, feeling the silence within him. No heartbeat, but she feels she has his as surely as he has hers.

She trembles on top of him, suddenly, that fire blazing like an inferno as it trembles through her. She tightens, and she’s uncertain  _ what _ is going on when she hears him make a choked off sound and he spills within her. It’s cold, he’s cold, but she’s never felt warmer in her life.

After, curled into his side, she feels sleep slipping over her like a blanket. Emmett strokes his fingers through her hair. “You were amazing, baby,” he whispers. “Honestly. Fuckin’ angel. What’d I do to deserve you?”

* * *

“It’s impossible!” Emmett is yelling at Carlisle. Rose doesn’t move from the spot she’d sat in when she first told Carlisle that her blood hadn’t yet come. She and Emmett laid together not that long ago. But it’s been long enough that she knows things aren’t normal. 

The older vampire looks tired. “I know, Emmett, but I can’t deny what I see. Surely you have noticed the…”

He doesn’t need to finish that sentence, but Rose knows how it was going to end. ‘Weight gain’. Part of her is affronted - she’s not  _ fat _ \- but she knows it’s an unavoidable part of pregnancy.

The next words come from the other one, and she glares at him as soon as she hears it, “It’s an abomination. Get rid of it, Carlisle. We can’t let it live.”

“First of all, Edward, ‘it’ is my baby. I don’t appreciate you calling them ‘it’,” she informed him. “Secondly, it’s my choice. Not yours.”

He glares daggers at her for her words, but Emmett looks pained. “Rose. Baby. C’mon. This is dangerous. You shouldn’t be  _ this  _ pregnant already, you know that. It’s not normal.”

No. It’s not, but neither is Emmett. Neither is their relationship. The more she thinks of a little boy or girl with Emmett’s dark curls and her violet eyes, the more her heart blooms for the little creature inside of her. She loves Vera’s little boy. Henry. She wants it for herself, and she wants it with the man she loves. How could she let them take that choice from her?

Esme, Emmett’s adoptive mother, has sat silently for the exchange. She speaks up then. “It is Rose’s choice, she’s right. And I’ll stand with her,” her eyes slip to her husband. “You saved me when all hope was lost. You can do the same for her, can’t you?”

Once, the idea of losing her life like that would have destroyed Rose - but her life is already lost. It’s been gone since the day she told Vera she’d get home just fine on her own. Piece by blasted piece, she built it back up, and she found Emmett in the process. This little part of him growing inside of her means the world to her already, and she doesn’t intend to lose it. Carlisle seems to fight himself for a moment, his eyes intent on Esme’s. Then, eventually, he nods. Edward is looking between all of them, distraught and clearly unsure why they’re all set on it, but their course of action is decided. Rose will have this baby. And then Carlisle will make her a part of their family. 

* * *

Emmett hoists George up in the air, and their son squeals in delight. He’s growing fast - worryingly fast - and Rose’s heart aches in worry. But in moments like these, where her husband and son play outside without a care in the world, it’s almost easy to forget. 

She’s different, now. The stretch marks are gone, and her skin no longer flushes a pretty peach whenever Emmett says something to her. Her eyes are a brilliant red, and she can’t wait for them to mellow out to amber. But she’s a mother. She has a son with the man she loves, and… and she feels as though her life has not ended so much as started a new page. Her life is in three parts - ‘before’, ‘recovering’, and ‘after’. The ‘after’ stage has, so far, been a relief. Even if her throat still burns with thirst some of the time. She goes outside and sits next to Emmett, eyes flickering up to his. He gives her that grin, dimples that match their son’s lighting up his face. “Hey, baby,” he murmurs, and George reaches out to smack him on the head. 

She laughs, and reaches out to touch their little boy’s face.  _ Perfect _ , she thinks, and peace takes her over. She’d made it.

**Author's Note:**

> I skipped over most of the pregnancy because it would have ended up just being Breaking Dawn but with Rose. If anyone desperately wants to see it, let me know, but I wanted to wrap things up without a drawn out dramatic pregnancy. They get their happily ever after. They might not grow old, but they can have their porch and their grandkids.


End file.
